


leave the bourbon on the shelf

by monstermash



Series: the hand in the garden [8]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 76
Genre: M/M, Trans Character, Trans Male Character, i will never play 76 but i love beckett lmao, the resident is trans
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-12 02:47:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29003211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monstermash/pseuds/monstermash
Summary: And before all of that, there's blips of memory of the faded dark where they lived - months, weeks, days before Frankie was born - packed in close with neighbors between concrete walls that trembled when the earth shook and wails of despair that were mostly smothered by near deafeningbooms.(His dad hushing him during the night,"It's just giants stomping their feet, Beckett. As long as we're quiet they won't find us.")
Relationships: Ayla/Frankie (Fallout 76), Beckett & Frankie Beckett, Beckett & Male Resident, Beckett & Sage, Beckett & Yasmin Chowdhury, Beckett/Male Resident, Beckett/Resident, Yasmin Chowdhury & Male Resident
Series: the hand in the garden [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/548632





	leave the bourbon on the shelf

**Author's Note:**

> the closest i'll ever get to playing fallout 76 is watching playthrough videos on youtube, because honestly, i'm not buying a game that requires me to pay for xbox live. if they ever make an offline mode for it then maybe.
> 
> i know that you can only have one ally at a time in camp, but i'm completely ignoring that lmao

Pacing up and down his cramped cell, Beckett feels like he's going to lose his mind.

Wasn't as careful as he should've been. Blood Eagles got the drop on him before he could even begin to track down the Eye and he's been kicking himself over it ever since. God damn AshTrey. If the guy wasn't so caught up in that stupid pissing contest with Maz Tabor over who's better at kissing the Blood's ass, Beckett could've probably escaped the group of Blood Eagles that found him. Sure as hell would've been a lot less of them to deal with, anyway.

But what's done is done, and now Beckett is facing down a future of torture paired with a slow death.

Right now though, they're dragging the wait out, trying to psych him out and it's _working._

"Waiting for more Blood Eagles to show up," the guard sneers at him. "Not everyday we catch a deserter. Gonna be one hell of a show."

\---

Being locked up leaves him dreaming of Maryland, whenever he sits still long enough to sleep.

Memories of growing up in Baltimore's ruins.

Tripping over pipes jutting out from torn asphalt like broken bones. Climbing into Frankie's cradle to calm his baby brother down when the radstorms got loud. Stuffing his pockets with a couple cans of Cram from Two Eyed Mandy's shelves on days when his dad was too sick to work the docks.

Though, now that he looks back on it, Beckett's pretty sure good ol' Mandy let him get away with stealing that food.

\---

Karma's got its kiss for him, that's for sure.

There's no getting out this cell. He's tried. Still trying, even now. Door's locked, and he hasn't got anything to pick it with. The wire mesh must've been reinforced where it meets the frame because he can't tear it off himself; maybe if he had some Buffout he could do it. Maybe if it still even worked on him.

But that's what landed him in this mess in the first place, isn't it?

Doing chems ain't necessarily evil, he knows that. But the shit he did when he was on them, high out of his mind? Yeah, _that_ was evil.

And it's a road he never wants to go down again.

So, karma. Even though he's been trying to balance the scales, put more good into the world than he took from it, and the only way he can do that is by destroying the Blood Eagles. Won't wash away the blood on his hands - nothing ever could and he wouldn't want it to. Completely forgetting what he did would be unforgivable.

\---

The details are fuzzy, his dad's face a blur now, but Beckett remembers his dad swinging him up onto his shoulders, taking him and Frankie to see the ships coming into port. A ridiculously rare day when his dad felt well enough to be upright for more than a couple hours at a time.

A shadow passing by the open doorway, not even bothering to stop to so much as glance into the living room where Beckett sat, stacking blocks in front of Frankie who kept knocking them down. The front slammed shut hard enough to send the blocks tumbling down before Frankie could raise a hand to do it. That was their ma, he thinks. The last he even _vaguely_ remembers of her, anyway.

And before all of that, there's blips of memory of the faded dark where they lived - months, weeks, days before Frankie was born - packed in close with neighbors between concrete walls that trembled when the earth shook and wails of despair that were mostly smothered by near deafening _booms._

(His dad hushing him during the night, _"It's just giants stomping their feet, Beckett. As long as we're quiet they won't find us.")_

\---

It's quiet out there. Too quiet.

Makes his skin crawl, just trying to figure out what the hell is going on out there. Blood Eagle camps are never this silent, and judging by the commotion he heard just moments before, _something_ has happened. Knowing his luck, it'll be a bunch of super mutants.

But there's none of the enraged yelling that usually signals their arrival. Long moments pass, and Beckett's sure that whoever, or whatever, is gone. But then there's a rattle and bang against the metal walls, it's all the warning he gets when the exit door slides open and in steps a stranger.

First thing he notices is the bloodied fire axe in hand. A Responder? No, the guy seems to be around Beckett's age; too young to have been part of the original group, and the one they got now is too small, still practically a non-entity in Appalachia, to be spreading themselves thin by sending anyone out to a place like the Ash Heap.

"Hey! Hey you. You need to let me out of here." The hope swelling behind his ribs is almost agonizing, but his way out of this mess is literally standing before him. He silently begs any higher power that might exist that there's a benevolent bone in this man's body. Or that the promise of caps will do the trick, should that not be the case. "Look. I need to get out of here. These Blood Eagles are going to kill me, but only after they mess me up. You get me? It's not going to be pleasant."

Tilting his head, the man narrows his eyes at him in what Beckett can only assume is distrust. "There's probably a good reason you're in there."

Hell, in the back of his mind, he knows he can't exactly blame the guy for being wary; some rando in a jail cell in the middle of a raider camp? Yeah, Beckett'd have to think twice about it too. But now ain't the time for it, neither of them have time for this. He knows what Blood Eagles do to prisoners, what they'll do to Beckett, just like he knows what happens to anyone unlucky enough to get caught trying to free 'em.

Letting out a harsh breath, Beckett steps closer to the cell door, close enough to slip his fingers through and wrap around the wire mesh, gripping tight enough to keep himself grounded, to get a handle on the rising panic. "Yes and no. As far as the Blood Eagles are concerned, _'yes.'_ As far as you and I are concerned, _'no.'_ How about we do story time later? Just get me out of here!"

"I'll help you after you tell me why you're in there."

"Oh, for the love of... Quick version, okay? I used to be part of this gang. I left. They nabbed me, and now they want to make a lesson out of me. How's that?"

A shrug and then, "Fair enough. How do I get this cell open?"

It feels like a weight's finally been lifted from his shoulders, but Beckett knows better than to get ahead of himself.

"Now you're talking. Okay, the key should be around here somewhere... probably in the room where the guy running this place sleeps." The stranger nods, turning on his heel, and there's an anxious _something_ gnawing away at Beckett's stomach. "Be careful, please."

The stranger pauses at the door, looking back at Beckett before saying, "I will."

\---

The door swings open and it takes every ounce of self-control to keep from immediately bolting.

They both just... stand there, for a moment or two, taking their time sizing the other up now that the immediate danger has been dealt with. Something in him wants to squirm away from how those hazel eyes watch him, practically boring right down into his soul - what's left of it, anyway. He barely manages to hold in a flinch when the other man abruptly holds out a hand.

"Faraday Haddock."

There's still something sharp to Faraday's gaze, like an ice pick, but Beckett refuses to buckle under it. Without another thought, Beckett shakes his hand.

"Beckett. No last name."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [here](https://edmunderson.tumblr.com/post/644126977536704512/hmmm-never-gonna-buyplay-fallout-76-but-i-made) is what Faraday (and his twin, Junia) look like


End file.
